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Authors: Roger MacBride Allen

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BOOK: The Depths of Time
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What I have tried to do is study the daily news and other routine broadcasts to see what they can tell us about the background situation, or else to take note of the information that the sender does not even know is there.


Sir, I

m not sure I follow,

Phelby said.


Let me show you one quick example,

Koffield said. He flipped open a recessed panel on the table and punched a few buttons. Two-meter-wide panels on the four walls of the conference room slid open, revealing large flatview screens behind them. The screens lit up, each showing the same images. It was of an outdoor scene, a protest rally of some sort, angry people shouting and waving banners. Koffield let the imagery run without sound for about ten seconds, then froze the shot.

This was broadcast at local noon from a town on the southern continent, where it is currently summer. The protest was about some group of farmers doing too much overtime and for too little pay. It is what we can see behind that protest that is of interest. According to the archive data we have on file regarding general planetary climate, it should be hot and muggy there, with heavy afternoon showers nearly every day. Note that the people are wearing heavy clothes, more suited to late fall than midsummer. Note that the sky is deep blue directly overhead, while the horizon is a muddy brown, suggestive of a dry climate with a lot of dust in the air. Note that all the trees are bare, and the grass is brown. Not a very fruitful summer.

The room was silent, and Koffield pushed more buttons to make the screens vanish.

Those for whom the broadcast was intended would pay no attention to any of those details, because they would be aware of them beforehand. They would not notice that the information was there. Clear enough?

Phelby nodded.


Very good. We have developed a lot of information by using similar techniques with other forms of communication. We have combined that with data from direct observation of the planet, and with data from on board this ship. We have used the information from all these sources to develop what we believe is a plausible synthesis.

Marquez watched Koffield carefully. The man was playing tricks, using misdirection, hiding what he was doing by getting them all to look the other way. He had said nothing about his predictions, nothing about the warning he had been trying to carry, nothing about the contents of that personal pack he had gone to such pains to protect. But Koffield knew that Marquez knew of such things, and Koffield had to know that Marquez would notice the omissions. Did Koffield expect him to play along? What was he hiding, and why?

Koffielcf went on.

To state the situation in very broad terms,

he said,

the Solacian system is in crisis, said crisis being brought on by major climatic problems on the planet. It

s raining when and where it shouldn

t, and not raining where and when it should. There are places where summers are too hot, and winters too cold, and others where just the reverse obtains. The ice caps are growing and the seas are shrinking.


All this, of course, means the land is less productive in terms of food production. That in itself shouldn

t mean much. The planetary population is only a few million. Even if crop yields drop further, far below what they are, there is plenty of land available for cultivation. But it is extremely difficult to prepare new cropland on a world terraformed as recently as Solace was. It takes a great deal of human and mechanical labor simply to waken the soil. The massive climate shifts now going on mean that it is unlikely for any crop field to be available for more than a few seasons before it is destroyed by drought or washed away by floods, or succumbs to some other climatic disaster.

Koffield went on.

Obviously, the climatic crisis on the ground has had its effect off-planet as well. It would seem there is some sort of evacuation going on at the moment, with large numbers of people being transported from the surface to the orbital facilities. News reports put the number at something like a hundred thousand.


No one builds that much spare habitat space,

Renblant objected.

How the devil could they have enough extra capacity in orbit to handle that many?


They couldn

t,

Koffieid said.

Either someone is deliberately lying for some reason, or a reporter got his facts wrong, or there is something we

ve missed. A lot of the refugees are already returning to the ground, which would account for a lot of it. But even a much smaller number of refugees taken to orbit could be enough to seriously disrupt an orbital station or habitat. We don

t know how much trouble they

ve caused.

And who is “we”?
Marquez wondered. The man was making it sound as if a staff of fifty had been working around the clock. Collecting as much information as he had would have been an impressive accomplishment for fifty, but it had just been Koffieid and the comm center, no one else—and Koffieid had spent most of the morning with Marquez in the revival room. How had he learned so much so fast?


So,

said Captain Marquez,

this star system is in a hell of a mess.


That just about sums it up,

Koffieid agreed.


What about technology?

Phelby asked.

It

s been a hundred twenty years. How different are things?

Koffieid frowned and drummed his fingers on the tabletop. Marquez got the impression he had been hoping to avoid that question.

It

s strange, but nothing seems greatly different,

he said at last.

Some refinements here and there. Of course, I haven

t checked all the data, and there

s more information coming in all the time, but so far, I haven

t spotted anything so advanced it

s unrecognizable, and I should have. Sometimes technology plateaus for a long time. Maybe that

s what happened. But I don

t know.

It was, Marquez noticed, the first time Koffieid hadn

t spoken in the plural first person.
It that it?
he wondered.
Is it “we” who have successes, but “I” am the one who fails?
Marquez wondered.

Thank you, sir,

Marquez said to Koffield.

Keep us informed.


I will do so, Captain. But if I might ask, sir—can you tell us what you plan to do? Clearly it is only prudent to inspect the ship, but what is our next step after that?

The room was deadly silent for a moment. Marquez could not help but wonder why the man who had commanded
Upholder
would ask such a question of a ship

s master at such a time. No doubt he had a reason for such a serious challenge to the captain

s authority. But what was it?

There is no doubt a great.deal more for us to learn— and that is what I propose to do—wait and learn. I certainly don

t intend to make ourselves known to the Solacians until we know more.


Sir?

Koffield asked.

What do you mean?


I mean that this ship and her cargo are valuable, and that there are desperate people down there. We could certainly improvise some reasonably powerful defenses, given time, but this ship is essentially unarmed. If someone wanted to take the
DP-IV
from us, they could do it. What if, for example, we were docked at Solace Central Orbital when someone down there—the legal authorities or a mob, or anything in between—announced that desperate times called for desperate measures, or that we had no right to deny the use of our wealth to others during a time of crisis, or whatever other rationalization they cared to use. What could we do to stop them? Ships have been seized before.


I have seen no indication that things are anywhere near to such a state down there, or that—


You have just gotten through saying you had not seen everything, Admiral Koffield. L do not intend to risk my ship to the mob.

Koffield looked at him steadily, but did not speak. The silence held for a moment, until Phelby spoke up. Either the man was oblivious to the tension in the room, or else he did not care about it.

Excuse me, sir, but if we

re
not
going to make ourselves known, what—what are we going to do?


Hide,

Renblant put in.


Quite right, Mr. Renblant, but I

ll thank you to allow me the luxury of answering questions for myself. We are, indeed, going to hide, Mr. Phelby. At least until we know more. Any action, any action at all, that we take now we would take on the basis of ignorance. Should we stay here, or head for Earth, or for some other port of call? What sort of place is Earth these days? Every star system we know of could have changed beyond recognition. And what of the ship? How did she fail us? Would she do so again? What of the cryosleep systems? Is the explanation as simple as what Mr. Phelby has suggested, or is there something deeper at work, some other malfunction? Should we choose to remain here, at Solace, for a time—or forever? Perhaps this is the best place for us, or perhaps our spacecraft is unrepairable.


You

re saying we can

t go

out and we can

t head in,

said Phelby.

We can

t trust the cryo systems without a thorough checkout. Maybe we can

t ever use the cryos again. But if we can

t use them again—well, I don

t know, but no matter how bad it is down there, it has to be better than being marooned at the edge of the system for the rest of our lives. We can

t stay parked up here forever.


You are wrong. We
can
stay up here forever,

said Marquez.

Or at least for the rest of our lives. I do not wish to do it, and it might not be the most pleasant existence, but it would be possible, and probably much to be preferred to living on a planet facing famine. We have power and life support and food-generation systems.


Many things are possible in theory, but madness in practice,

Koffield objected.

We must go in. The whole purpose of our—of my—mission is at stake.

A tiny little break in the armor there,
thought Marquez.

I am not proposing that we
do
stay here. There can be no doubt it would be a grim life—but when you say you don

t know about

how bad it could be down there, you are speaking more accurately than you realize. You
don’t
know. I
do
know. I

ve seen it. I have three times before seen planets in the process of climate collapse.


I know you

ve seen it,

Koffield said.

But still, we must go in.

And suddenly something connected. Marquez looked up at Koffield, and he could read it there. Somewhere in the man

s calm, emotionless expression, he could see it. Marquez had seen climate collapse.
That was why Koffield had chosen his ship.
There had been other ships headed for Solace, but Koffield had pressed hard to get a berth aboard the
DP-IV.
If things had gone as planned, and they had arrived at Solace in the previous century, before things had started to go wrong, Koffield would have faced a planet full of skeptics. It would have helped to have a climate-collapse survivor on his side, someone who knew what the nightmare would be like. Someone who could believe in the danger, could visualize it, and knew how to be afraid of it.

But now the very fear, the very caution, he had sought out had turned against Koffield.


Ah, excuse me, Admiral Koffield,

said Phelby.

Maybe you
had
reasons for coming here, but we are over a century late. Whatever it is can

t still be urgent, can it?

Koffield looked at Phelby, but did not answer. But it was easy to read that cold, hard expression.
It is not wise to meddle in my affairs.

Phelby swallowed hard and looked down at the table.

Well, yeah. Okay. Never mind.

BOOK: The Depths of Time
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ads

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